Brynn gulped back her emotion as Jake McKenzie stared curiously at her. She took a few steps forward, unable to resist the lure of the child. Oh, to have a chance again with Sarah, to make right what she hadn’t done when Sarah was alive. To save her this time…
“Mrs. Alder?”
Brynn jerked her gaze from the girl to Jake McKenzie.
“This is Andrea.”
Brynn curved her trembling lips into a smile. “It’s good to meet you, Andrea.”
The girl didn’t respond.
Brynn wasn’t bothered by the lack of reaction. Instead she said, “Let’s go inside. You’re probably thirsty after your long drive.”
Jake looked relieved to hear the invitation. Dropping an arm over Andrea’s shoulders, he gently shepherded her inside, walking into the comfortable room. Once they’d sat down, Shamus settled at Andrea’s feet. McKenzie watched his daughter. “He likes you, Annie.”
Hesitantly she reached out to pet the dog. In return, the gentle giant gazed adoringly at her.
Brynn reluctantly pulled her own gaze away. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get some iced tea.” She left the hall, Virgil at her heels.
When she returned a few minutes later, with the tea, Andrea was still stroking the dog.
“Shamus usually won’t settle down for more than two minutes.” Brynn placed the tray on the round coffee table, trying to keep her hands from shaking. “He must like you, Andrea.”
The child looked up at Brynn with such pain-filled eyes it tore again at her heart. Jake McKenzie hadn’t exaggerated.
“He’s nice,” Andrea said finally, her voice soft.
Brynn continued studying the child. “Yes, he is. Do you like dogs?”
Andrea shrugged.
It wasn’t an eloquent response, but Brynn recognized a slim crack in her apathy. She remembered how Sarah had used the same gesture when words just wouldn’t do or were difficult to summon.
Andrea reminded her so much of Sarah, who’d been so shaken by what life had dealt her. As she had hundreds of times since, Brynn wondered how differently things might have turned out if she’d been more aware then.
But her earlier suspicions couldn’t be ignored. What if the child was simply a terribly effective prop McKenzie was using?
Brynn turned to him. “Sweet tea or plain?”
“Plain, thanks.”
She handed him a glass. “And you, Andrea?”
“Sweet, I guess.”
As she poured the tea, Brynn studied the girl, wanting to connect with her. “What do you like best about school?”
Andrea didn’t look up from the dog. “Nothing.”
Jake caught Brynn’s gaze, his expression pointedly reminding her of his earlier words.
She placed Andrea’s glass on the table. But the girl didn’t reach for the tea. Like her dull eyes, the vacant expression could be the result of drugs. Her skin was unnaturally pale, her eyes shadowed with dark circles. Brynn looked from the girl to Jake McKenzie. There was a definite resemblance, especially in their hair coloring. More telling, every time Jake’s glance fell on his daughter, it filled with genuine concern. His love for Andrea was a nearly palpable thing stretching between the wounded pair. Apparently he was who he said he was. And his daughter clearly needed help. She looked fragile enough to break.
Brynn remembered Jake’s dire prediction—that Andrea was running out of time. What if he was right? Could she turn her back on the girl and risk the worst? Despite her fatigue, Brynn knew the answer. She wouldn’t, couldn’t allow that to happen.
The old, weathered grandfather clock chimed, reminding Brynn of the time. “Andrea, would you take Shamus outside, please?”
The girl hesitated, her hand still on the dog. She glanced up at her father, who nodded. “I guess so.”
Brynn pointed to the terrace doors. “You can go that way. The other dogs may follow.”
Andrea and Shamus walked outside. The two terriers trailed them, but the Border collie remained at Brynn’s side.
As soon as Andrea was out of hearing, Jake leaned forward, urgency etched in his features. “Well?”
“I can see that Andrea needs help.”
“Your help.”
“Andrea’s case is different from the children I’ve dealt with so far. I’ve had no professional training, other than psychology classes in college. Giving children time away from their day-to-day lives, from the stress even well-meaning parents can put on their children, is how I help. But in Andrea’s case…” Brynn paused, swallowing back the memories pushing at her. “Are you certain the relationship with her mother is beyond repair?”
He frowned. “My ex-wife only agreed to have Andrea in return for marriage and a guaranteed financial arrangement. But she’d had all she could take—her words, not mine. When she filed for divorce, she wanted more money, but nothing to do with Andrea.” He stood suddenly and turned toward the windows. “I never guessed a woman could have absolutely no maternal feelings. But Val thought she’d wasted enough time, said she hadn’t signed up for a life sentence. I felt Andrea was better off with no mother than one who resented her. Forcing Val into motherhood was doing no favors for Andrea. I always thought Val would come to love her. How could she not?” Shaking his head, he pivoted back toward Brynn. “This conversation isn’t helping Andrea.”
“If I’m going to help her, I’ll need to know everything.”
Light flashed in his eyes. “You’re going to take on Andrea’s case?”
“I’ll let you know by Monday. My circumstances haven’t changed, but I’ll try to work around them.”
“I’m still prepared to pay you more than—”
“No. As I told you, I do not, will not, accept money for helping a child.”
He stared at her curiously. With just one question, she had managed to pry more from him than he had confided to anyone else in years. And although he’d received a sterling recommendation regarding Brynn, he wished he knew more. Her personal life was a mystery.
Brynn glanced toward the terrace. “In the event that I’m able to work with Andrea, let’s take care of a few preliminaries. While you make out your contact list, I’ll write a list of suggested things for Andrea to pack. She’s free to bring along some personal items as well, but I ask that you eliminate anything noisy, such as CDs. The quiet here forces discussion.”
There was a time when Andrea could laugh and talk over anything, no matter how loud or distracting. Back then, on his return from work-related travel, it was as though his daughter had saved up everything that had happened while he was gone, filling him in on each detail. Val hadn’t cared. She was glad when he was away, discontented when he was home. But not his Annie.
Now, though, it worried him to travel. Every time he returned, it seemed he’d lost another piece of his daughter. Thin and pale, she looked as though she’d gone through a long illness. It was emotional, not physiological, but the result was the same. Andrea was fading away. “We’ll comply with your rules.”
Brynn studied him. “I hope you mean that.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “You doubt it?”
“My methods aren’t completely conventional. Each child dictates his or her